Update Schedule

I said I’d update this blag Tuesdays, Thursday and Sundays and I’m already about to become a filthy liar. I already felt pretty rushed with the last post. I didn’t have time to proofread, polish or even cite as many studies as well as I would have liked.

To be fair my cat ate some red thread and had to have surgery so that cut into my schedule a fair bit. Excuses aside, I’m still going to do some mini updates today because I think with a bit of straining I might be able to stick to this schedule.


As my first penance, here’s some pictures of my astro-kitty doped out on pain relievers, flying through the void in her space ship.

Astro KittyDeep Cat Nine

Self Destruction Anthem

Self Destruction Anthem by Days N Daze is a fun song to sing along to. It’s probably a blast if you have similarly disillusioned friends to belt alongside of. I wouldn’t know. I don’t have friends.

It consists of two, roughly 14 syllable lyrics about self destructive behavior, followed by “Why do I do this? Whyyyyyyyy? Why do I do this to myself?” and occasionally interspersed with “I’m self destructing. No one can save me. You asked me if I loved you I said maybe. Why would you love me? You should learn to hate me. I’m going not where fast.” Repeat until you can’t sing any more.

In the spirit of things, I made my own personal version of the lyrics. One day I’ll learn to play the guitar, make my father proud, and then disappoint him as I strum out of tune to overly indulgent self loathing.

Lyrics

My name is Amy and I can’t keep going on this way,
I’m scared of life, I stay at home and sleep away the day.

Why do I do this? Whyyy? Why do I do this to myself?

Each day I get the shakes at what life has in store,
I think I’m living properly, sleeping alone on my hard floor.

Why do I do this? Whyyy? Why do I do this to myself?

I’m self destructing. No one can save me. You asked me if I loved you, I said maybe. How could you love me? You should learn to hate me. I’m going nowhere fast.

I go to my job everyday, I’d rather break a bone,
I sit in subtle agony and then pass out home alone.

Why do I do this? Whyyy? Why do I do this to myself?

I haven’t given up on life but it feels like life gave up on me,
If you told it’s a bit of both I wouldn’t disagree.

Why do I do this? Whyyy? Why do I do this to myself?

All I’ve done for years on end is too much LSD,
It’s not great but being sober seems much worse to me.

Why do I do this? Whyyy? Why do I do this to myself?

I’m self destructing. No one can save me. You asked me if I loved you, I said maybe. How could you love me? You should learn to hate me. I’m going nowhere fast.

Real Sexy Update

After my last blag post Naomi tweeted this:

Mostly it’s as described- the same people who argue “merit” should be the only thing that matters quickly move the goalposts when dealing with someone as, or more qualified then others by the criteria they established but from a group that criteria has historically kept out.

Which is equally as brilliant and should be seen by as many people as possible. Shame on anyone that would use merit as the measure only when they are sure they will be on top.

Real Sexy Cyborg

I’ve only taken a cursory glance at Naomi Wu’s (@realSexyCyborg) twitter, and I like what I see. She hooked me with the last line of her bio:

“Everything is about merit until merit has tits”

I love this because I do believe in competence as a valid construct, and I do believe in competent women (and men) and I don’t appreciate it when people subvert meritocracy. This quote is an excellent quip encoding a response to three obnoxious attitudes:

  1. You can’t have merit because you have tits
  2. I don’t need to have merit because I have tits
  3. Forget your merit; let’s talk about your tits

Old Fashioned Sexism

The first attitude is old fashioned sexism; you are female so you cannot possibly be competent. The weaker version of this is: you are female so you cannot possibly be as competent as most men. Fortunately, I have been spared exposure to this. I can imagine it would fan the flames of indignity in anyone’s heart to the point of resentment and retribution.

New Fashioned Progressivism

Working a corporate job, I encounter the second item quite often. This is about including people, promoting people or providing people access to spaces and resources just because they are female. You can tell me all you want about historical wrongs that need righting, but I will never attend an event to be the token, or join a group “for” my gender.

Puritanical Prevarication

Similar to the first, but more sexual in nature. This is when no one objects to your competence or participation but can’t contain their attraction to the point where they can see you as more than your body.

I actually have some sympathy for this view point. Arguments about psychological effects of attractiveness on perceived and actual competence aside; I’m not here to shame anyone for normal human sexuality. This tweet sums up what I’m talking about nicely:

Naomi Wu Tweet

I’m guessing that Naomi is referring to commenters ignoring the lesson in lieu of her (lack of) dress. This implies that her outfit  is a more pressing matter than her content. The magic of the internet is that, if you’re (understandably) distracted by the presenter, you can just watch a different video. The shit move is to try to shame your sense of propriety onto the presenter. If you can’t enjoy material if it’s too “sexy” that’s your problem, not hers.


I like the quote. I like merit. I like tits. I like competent people. I don’t appreciate it when people try to undermine measures of competence with non relevant criterion.


Disclaimer

I don’t know if this is what Naomi meant by her quote as I only have it out of context.

Centaur Playing a Lyre

I pulled into my usual parking spot, near a large tree at the end of the lot. Underneath sat a centaur, legs wreathed in ethereal flames. As I stepped out we locked eyes; his forehead he bore the mark of Gal’esh, Lord of Liars.

“Are you real?” I asked.

“No” he replied.

The flames crackled and grew brighter.